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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23675614">The Greater Fool</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoltzmannForDays/pseuds/HoltzmannForDays'>HoltzmannForDays</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Coven</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Teacher-Student Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 15:14:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,523</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23675614</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoltzmannForDays/pseuds/HoltzmannForDays</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Misty Day is sent the Academy after the untimely death of her parents by her aunt, Myrtle Snow. Under the reigning supremacy of Fiona Goode, Misty and Cordelia form an unlikely bond as student and teacher and support each other through trying times. Will this new found intimacy form something deeper?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Misty - Relationship, Misty Day/Cordelia Foxx | Cordelia Goode</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Greater Fool</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Spanish moss hung low from the southern live oak trees, the sun illuminating its beautiful green as the fog rolled in slowly, thick and heavy. Misty Day’s eyes followed the tree line with earnest, always having loved the way the moss blew along with the wind. She was in the back seat of her aunt Myrtle’s yellow station-wagon; head propped up by one boney elbow, chin supported by her hand, as she stared out the window. It’d been three days since she was dragged away from her home by her aunt following the sudden murder of her parents. Upon her arrival to Myrtle Snow’s house, before unpacking what little items belonged to her, she learned she was to be sent away again; to an all girls boarding school in the heart of New Orleans. <em> Miss. Robichaux’s Academy for Exceptional Young Ladies </em>, if she remembered correctly. To this future, she was indifferent. She didn’t know her aunt well (at all actually), nor did she know anything about this new school. Either way she was bound to be faced with unknown misfortunes, the scene hardly mattered much. And perhaps, Misty thought briefly, a formal education of sorts would do her well. </p><p> </p><p>“We’re almost there, darling,” Myrtle spoke between the puffs of her cigarette. When Misty didn’t respond she continued, “Would you prefer I change the station? I can only take so much Miles Davis, though a genius he was indeed.”</p><p> </p><p>Misty sighed lightly. In truth she probably preferred silence as they made their way to the academy. But Myrtle was kind and surely meant well.</p><p> </p><p>“Got any Stevie?” She asked. </p><p> </p><p>Myrtle smirked widely, “I’ve always loved Stephanie dearly, that witchy woman.” </p><p>Misty had long since stopped questioning why the mad do mad things. Namely, why Myrtle says the things she does and what in good hell they meant. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>By the time they pulled up before a great metal gate, <a href="https://youtu.be/enGeXEmkQUQ"><em> Blue Water </em></a> had just ended. Misty let herself out of the car with a duffle bag of her belongings in hand. Myrtle rounded the vehicle to embrace her niece tightly, stroking her unruly blonde curls. To Misty, she smelled of smoke, expensive aged perfume, and something plain regal. </p><p> </p><p>“Farewell my free bird. My darling Cordelia will take good care of you, I’m sure of it.”</p><p>Misty hugged her back, not able to come up with another socially acceptable response. Myrtle’s intentions were pure but Misty was not comfortable given the circumstances. </p><p> </p><p>“I really appreciate you helpin’ me out Auntie Myrtle,” she said. Myrtle pulled back and let her palms hold either side of her niece’s face.</p><p>“Of course dear. Now be off. Here,” she opened the passenger door and popped a disc from the car’s player. Stevie Nicks’ album, <em> 24 Karat Gold </em>. She handed it to Misty. </p><p> </p><p>Misty smiled closed lips in thanks and turned toward the gate. With the acknowledgement of her presence it seemed, the gate swung open slowly, and she made her way to the front door of the large white mansion. </p><p>Timidly, she knocked. Gently at first then with a bit more gusto. When she began to think maybe no one was there to answer, the oak door creaked open and behind it stood a thin blonde woman with a shy smile. At first glance Misty could see that behind her brown eyes was a vulnerability, but also warmth and kindness. In that moment, she wanted to pull her into her arms and promise to guard her secrets for as long as she should live. At the realization of the thought, she shook her head softly.</p><p> </p><p>“Hello. You must be Misty Day,” the young girl nodded, “Cordelia Goode.”</p><p> </p><p>Ms. Goode put her hand forward in good faith and patiently waited as Misty observed it for a moment. She reached forward and wrapped both her hands around the other woman’s. Ms. Goode seemed taken back momentarily at the gesture, but her smile quickly grew to reveal the whites of her teeth. </p><p> </p><p>“Nice to meet ya Miss Cordelia,” she said with a curt nod.</p><p> </p><p>Empathy. Something Misty’s mother, Lily, had spoken to her about once behind closed doors when she was certain no one was listening in.</p><p> </p><p><em> To be an empath is to </em> <em> be </em> <em> hypersensitive </em> <em> - to experience a high level of compassion, consideration, and understanding towards others. You’re in tune to others’  feelings, Misty. That’s all. You can understand them on a deeper level than us; and that’s your cross to bear.  </em></p><p> </p><p>Some auras were stronger than others. Some reached out to her, begged for her attention. Others stayed hidden, or simply weren’t anything outstanding or very strong. But the woman before her sparked an experience she’d had only once before. When her parents had died, had been burned alive in their own home, she felt it. She wasn’t near enough to interfere; to save them. A fact that would haunt her for the rest of her life. But she felt them. Felt her mother, the heat that licked her skin, the smoke that filled her lungs and strangled the life from her. Felt the inferno of death, uncaring and unyielding. She felt her mother’s fear. Her pain. She wanted to die; if only to carry out her own proxied experience to completion. Since that night her nerves had been frayed by the fire. Her soul, afraid of another connection so deep, so vulnerable. But her soul had a mind of its own in the presence of Cordelia Goode it seemed. When their hands touched - Misty was consumed, head to toe, with a profound loneliness found only in the moments of isolation she’d often felt herself. When she was most alone. When she had no one; which was always. </p><p> </p><p>Her heart dropped to her feet and a pit formed in her stomach.</p><p> </p><p><em> Keep your wits about yourself </em>, Misty urged.  </p><p> </p><p>“Please do come in, Misty.” </p><p> </p><p>Tightening the grip she had on the older woman’s hand, she walked through the door frame. Cordelia didn’t so much as blink, accepting the warmth of Misty’s hand with grace. Holding her hand, she led her up the grand staircase of the academy toward the living quarters. </p><p> </p><p>“Given the short notice, you’ll be boarding with another student until we can furnish a room for you. Will that be alright?” Cordelia turned a knob and pushed into a medium sized room bearing stark white walls and polished wooden flooring. Two beds and wardrobes occupied the room. The color scheme was minimalist as was the decorating. The room was bright and clean, welcoming even. </p><p> </p><p>“I don’t mind, so long as the other student doesn’t,” she muttered with a smug look. </p><p> </p><p>Cordelia’s eyes crinkled as her smile grew once again at the girl’s quirkinesses. </p><p> </p><p>“Certainly not. Queenie has already agreed to the arrangement. Not to worry, she's a very personable young girl."</p><p> </p><p>Misty released Cordelia’s hand to set her bag on the ground next to one of the twin beds. A bated breath escaped her chapped lips. Relief at the absence of the intense loneliness she felt with the embrace of the older woman. Though, glaringly ironic, she nearly felt more alone in her own disposition now more than ever; without her touch. </p><p> </p><p>Cordelia smiled softly at the action, but missed the heat of the embrace. </p><p> </p><p>“Once you’ve settled in here, I’d like you to join me in the kitchen to go over the house rules. Usually our resident Supreme would be helping you through this process, but she’s seeing to a business matter. So you’re stuck with me.” She gave a pitiful smile.</p><p> </p><p>“Lucky me,” Misty said softly as she unzipped her bag and began unpacking. Cordelia, somewhat stunned, left the girl to walk downstairs and put on a kettle.</p><p>
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</p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Camomile okay?” Cordelia asked quietly as she poured steaming hot water into two white mugs.</p><p> </p><p>“This place is so chilly reckon I’d drink even coffee if it were steamin’,” Misty said with a shiver. </p><p> </p><p>“You get used to the cold here,” she replied distantly. It wasn’t lost on Misty that the words carried more more meanings than one. She slid a mug toward the girl and sat next to her at the small wooden table in the kitchen. </p><p> </p><p>“This is a school, ain’t it?” Misty asked, noting the distinct lack of students and faculty members in the house she had been in for the past forty-five minutes. Cordelia hummed in agreement. </p><p> </p><p>“Then where’s all the kids? If you don’t mind my askin’.” </p><p> </p><p>Cordelia took a sip of her tea. Misty was surprised by the move considering how hot the beverage had to have still been. </p><p> </p><p>“We don’t have many girls here, only six. On the weekends they like to go into town. You’ll meet them in due time.”</p><p>Misty simply nodded in response, satiated by the answer. </p><p> </p><p>The two drank their respective drinks in a comfortable silence. The older woman took this as an opportunity to assess the girl before her. Misty’s hair was untamed and free flowing, blonde curls going in seemingly every direction. Her eyes were piercing and held far too much wisdom for her age, though her personality exuded a childlike naiveté. The two contradicted themselves in a way that fascinated Cordelia. Upon her fingers were many rings, many more than most would deem necessary. They were all uniquely beautiful, and before she realized, Cordelia was staring at the girl’s fingers. Noting how long and strong they were, with delicate blue veins wrapping around her hand. Her nails were short, and her skin was pale and soft. She recalls how they felt intertwined with her own, warm and comforting. Misty seemed to have sensed her sad disposition when they’d met, and immediately made to calm her the way she knew best. Human contact; connection. </p><p> </p><p>“You said something’ ’bout house rules earlier?"</p><p>Cordelia was shaken from her revelry. </p><p> </p><p>“Right, of course. Miss Robichaux's Academy for Exceptional Young Ladies was established as a premiere girls' finishing school. During the Civil War, it was converted into a military hospital. Afterwards, it came under new management. Our management. In its heyday, the academy was home to as many as sixty girls. Over the years, those numbers dwindled,” she took a modest sip from her mug.</p><p> </p><p>“Why’s that?” Misty asked.</p><p> </p><p>“We’re a dying breed, Misty. Many of the families who knew they carried the bloodline made a choice not to reproduce.” </p><p> </p><p>At this, the young girl frowned. While her life had certainly been a fair collection of misfortunate events, she would never trade her gift for normalcy. To her, her powers came with a responsibility. A moral obligation to maintain the natural balance of life and to protect God’s creatures. She didn’t understand why someone would willingly forsake that. </p><p> </p><p>“Earlier, you mentioned somethin’ ‘bout a Supreme?”</p><p>Cordelia smiled kindly and nodded. </p><p>“An average witch is born with a few natural gifts. But in each generation there is one woman who embodies countless gifts. Some say... all of them. She is the Supreme.”</p><p>Misty hummed in quiet contemplation. The woman before her seemed to embody every aspect of a great leader. If there was to be someone more qualified, she couldn't wait to meet them. </p><p> </p><p>“What is it that you do then, Miss Cordelia?”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Besides makin’ my heart beat out of my chest.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“I’m a teacher. I'm here to help you identify your gifts and teach you how to control them.”</p><p> </p><p>She was tickled by the thought of more alone time with Cordelia. </p><p> </p><p>Misty smiled wide, “Sounds like I’ve got a lot to learn from you.”</p><p> </p><p>Cordelia returned the smile and took another drink, attempting to hide the rising blush spreading over her pale cheeks. Like freshly plucked strawberries amid a field after a winter’s first snow.</p><p> </p><p>From the kitchen could be heard the front door swinging open and a cavalcade of heels entering the residence in a storm.</p><p> </p><p>“That’ll be the girls,” Cordelia said with a modicum of excitement apparent in her eyes and tone. </p><p>As she said this, a group of young girls piled into the dining area. One went straight for the fridge. The others stopped when they noticed the strange blonde girl sitting across from their headmaster. </p><p> </p><p>“Who’s easy on the eyes over here?” called a blonde witch with a teasing wink. The girl’s eyes were devious but kind in the same. A glint of mischief could be seen flickering in her dark pupils.</p><p> </p><p>“Coco, this is Misty Day. The young witch from Laffeyete I mentioned. She has the power of resurgence.”</p><p> </p><p>Misty hummed, “Power of resurgence. I like the sound of that.” More so that she liked being able to put a name to the unknown power she’d had her whole life.</p><p> </p><p>Cordelia laughed gently along with Zoe. </p><p>“Misty, meet Coco, Madison, Zoe, Queenie, Nan, and Anne.” </p><p> </p><p>The respective witches waved in response. After a few silent moments, most of them left the kitchen to head to their rooms. They were awfully unsociable, Misty noted. </p><p> </p><p><em> So much for school spirit, </em>Misty thought. </p><p> </p><p>Anne, all 5’9” inches of her, with shoulder length brownish auburn hair and blueish grey eyes, walked up to the table slowly. She outstretched her pale hand to the young blonde witch.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s very nice to meet you, Misty. The other girls take some warming up to. But you’ve got a friend in me, if you want it.” </p><p> </p><p>The whites of Misty’s teeth shown as a broad smile grew upon her face. She accepted Anne’s hand and shook it firmly. Underneath her fingers was a glimpse of something just out of reach. It wasn’t often she came in contact with an aura so well hidden. It was notably dark, but not malicious. The kind of dark that scars a person’s soul, she reckoned. It sparked an insatiable curiosity within Misty. Perhaps a new mystery she was eager to solve. </p><p> </p><p>“I’d like that very much.”</p><p> </p><p>The two shared a friendly look before Anne took her leave and turned in for the night. </p><p>Misty sat back heavily in her seat and sighed deeply. Cordelia glanced at her fondly. </p><p> </p><p>“Looks like you’ve already got a friend! That’s better than I did on my first day here,” she commented with a pitiful laugh. </p><p> </p><p>Misty found it hard to believe that Cordelia ever could have had a hard time making friends. She loathed the idea of a lonesome Cordelia. The woman was inherently kind, and certainly deserved someone who kept a smile on the woman’s face at all times. </p><p> </p><p>“Well Misty. It’s getting late. Breakfast is at seven if you choose to join us. First class is at eight, and attendance is mandatory. And it’s not like an absence will go unnoticed,” she said with a coy smirk. </p><p> </p><p>“Goodnight then, Miss Cordelia.”</p><p> </p><p>As Misty ascended the staircase and walked toward her room, her hopes were high. Perhaps her future here would be bright. She was eager to attend classes tomorrow and absorb all the knowledge she possibly could. Education wasn’t valued as highly where she came from, and she was glad to have this opportunity before her. As her head hit her pillow and her eyes began to feel heavy, she fell asleep thinking that maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all. </p><p>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm open to criticism and your thoughts!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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